“He’s a good kid.” Levi’s shoulder bumped into mine while I reached for a piece of cheese for Max.
I turned and rested my hip on the counter, holding Max’s pizza in one hand and the juice box in the other. Levi leaned in, moving his chest closer to mine. “He is a good kid. I got lucky.”
He shook his head, disagreeing with me. “It’s you, Ruby. You’re good at this whole mom thing.”
I thought about arguing with him. It didn’t feel like I was a good mom. It felt like we were just barely keeping our heads above water and I was making all the wrong decisions when it came to Max. For instance, was it fair to keep his dad’s identity a secret? I looked at Levi and my chest pinched with guilt. How cool would it be for Max to have Levi for an uncle? The Cole family would be obligated to invest in Max’s life. And they would. I knew that about them. They would care how he was raised and where he was raised and how much opportunity he had.
I thought about college and how impossible that felt right now. Granted, he was only six and that was a long way off. But still, it wasn’t something I could help him with. It might be something I could never help him with.
But I couldn’t share any of that with Levi. So instead, I shrugged off his compliment and said, “Oh, you know a lot of single moms, do you?”
“I know moms,” he insisted. “And you’re one of the best. Max is lucky.”
His words settled like a cozy blanket around my heart, releasing some of the tension that had been brewing since he walked in the door—or maybe it was always there, maybe it was the weight I always wore. I decided to take a break from constantly worrying and accept his kind words. They felt good.
They felt amazing.
“Thank you, Levi.”
He smiled, and it was that soft, gentle one that made my heart do jumping jacks and my stomach do backflips. I’d never been especially athletic, but around Levi, my insides turned into Olympic gymnasts.
Moving on quickly, he reached for the small stack of movies and said, “Point me in the right direction?”
“By the TV. Max can do it if you can’t figure it out. He’s in charge of all the tech stuff around here.”
“Of course he is,” Levi mumbled as he walked over to the entertainment center. “Max, did you know that one time when your mom and I were in school together, she made a DVD player catch on fire?”
Max’s burst of laughter was contagious. “Are you for real?”
Levi nodded solemnly. “Mr. Atkins just wanted her to push play and she set the whole thing on fire.”
“That wasn’t my fault!” I gasped, totally surprised by the memory. It was traumatizing enough, I’d tried to block the whole thing out over the years. “I was set up!”
“Then there was the time she spilled a pop all over the best computer in the computer lab.”
“It wasn’t the best computer—”
“And the time she—”
“All right, enough of this fun trip down memory lane, Cole. We’re trying to watch a movie here.”
Max giggled next to me. “You are really bad at the TV and stuff, Mom.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Watch it, mister. Or I’m drinking the juice box.”
He perked up. “Juice box?”
I pointed to the couch. “You’re going to have to tell me I’m pretty.”
“The most beautiful woman in the whole wide world,” he parroted. It had been our joke since he could talk. Whenever he got in trouble for talking back to me, I made him compliment how pretty I was.
Now with Levi here, I felt a little pathetic. But it wasn’t like I had a line of people affirming my mom-body. It was just me and the kid. I had to take compliments where I could get them.
Levi had crouched in front of the DVD player and was frozen in place, staring at us. He wore a bemused expression and a goofy smile on his face. I ignored him and the butterflies flying laps in my stomach.
“Scooch,” I told Max. Then I sat down next to him, handed him his juice box and pulled him in for a hug. Kissing the top of his head, I whispered. “And you’re the most handsomest man in the whole wide world.” He let me hold him close for another few seconds and then pulled away to dive into his pizza.
It was our tradition and I loved it, but lately he’d been pulling away quicker and rolling his eyes more. This growing up stuff was killing me.
